


everything got shattered in the dark

by BnessZ



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Tartarus (Percy Jackson), Post-The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, i love pain, the end is hopeful i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24315019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BnessZ/pseuds/BnessZ
Summary: Getting out of Tartarus alive is one thing, but surviving is a completely different matterorThe healing process has ups and downs and intersections and stop signs, but they're trying
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 30
Kudos: 332





	everything got shattered in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi  
> 1) i reread all the books in quarantine and then the TV series was announced and im drowning in feelings  
> 2) post Tartarus has been done a billion times but i needed to write this SO  
> 3) i missed up the tl with school and stuff but it was far too late to fix it by the time i realized  
> 4) i haven't written for this fandom in at least 11 years  
> 5) HUGE shout out to [Bee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardntani)~ for being such a great beta! Appreciate you so very much  
> 6) title is from [Molecules](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2EGIjdDZfJE) by Hayley Kiyoko 
> 
> uh, yeah, without further ado, please enjoy~

No one says anything when Percy moves into Annabeth's cabin after the first night back from on the ship.

One of the first things Percy had done after Reyna and Nico left was ask Leo to make them nightlights. Brighter than most, he'd specified, and blue, like looking at the sun from underwater. Leo had many questions, mostly about blue everything and why they needed to be so bright, but something in Percy's eyes was so terribly haunted that Leo just nodded mutely and set off to start crafting the lights.

He got them done in record time, handing them to the couple that same night as they stared at the stars. They thanked him, but the smiles didn't reach their eyes. Their cracked lips were strained when they looked at Leo.

Leo brushed it off. Everyone is exhausted, and he knows for a fact that Percy and Annabeth were only awake at that point from sheer willpower.

And, Leo thinks as the gut-twisting screams begin, _fear._

When he pokes his head out the door, Leo sees that everyone has done the same. Jason and Frank, on watch, hover at the top of the stairs, eyes wide. Piper is taking a step forward when another door flies open and a blur crosses the hall, not even sparing a glance at any of them. The screams don’t stop, only hiccups and sobs. They’re filled with horror and pain; more pain than Leo thinks he can even imagine, and he’s had his fair share of pain.

The others all look at each other. All of them have nightmares, it comes with the territory, but this… Leo doesn’t even have the beginnings of a joke like usual. This is a mood that cannot be lightened.

“Annabeth.” The voice is loud, almost forced, as if Percy has been calling her name this entire time.

Leo shakes his head and focuses. How long _has_ it been?

“Annabeth.” It’s broken, pleading. “We’re together.”

And then the screams stop, only to give way to a whimper that shouldn't pierce the silence quite as much as it does. “Percy?”

“Yeah.”

“S—Safe?”

There’s a bitter laugh and it reminds Leo so much of himself that it nearly knocks him over. “Never, but we’re— we’re not _there_ anymore.”

The ship becomes quiet again. Tears glisten in Piper’s eyes and she walks, almost in a daze, into Hazel’s arms. Jason and Frank retreat back to the deck, whispering to each other. Leo can barely make out murmurs from Annabeth’s cabin now. Her light flickers on. Even Buford walks past, pauses at the door, and then continues on, silent.

Slumping back onto his bed, Leo remembers what Percy said earlier, _I’m not ready to remember that place,_ and wonders if the real problem is that they aren't actually convinced they made it out.

Leo wonders if the two of them will ever _actually leave_ Tartarus.

*

One morning, Annabeth has a bruise on her jaw and Percy is covered in scratches, and no one is brave enough to ask why.

*

It gets better.

Their appearance goes from corpse-like to just sleep deprived. Their sunken cheeks begin to fill out. Smiles are easier to pull out of them, eyes glistening more often than not. They jump at less noises and are able to hold their own when the ship gets attacked, though no one has suggested that they take watch yet. Even the night terrors seem to have quieted. The rest of the crew isn’t awoken every night anymore at least.

And yet...

Hazel watches them. She doesn’t know Annabeth very well, but she can see the tense set in her shoulders, the slight limp she often hides, the way that sometimes, even when she looks at her boyfriend, there is fear in Annabeth’s eyes.

In Percy, Hazel sees so much more. The quiet sadness she had once commented on, about staring at his fate and just waiting for it to catch him, is now intensified and mangled with anger. His sarcastic comments and smiles are still quick as a whip, and Hazel can definitely see the old Percy on most days, but still. Days like today, where Annabeth is belowdecks, _actually sleeping_ and Percy has nothing to distract him, well…

His eyes are darker than the deepest part of the oceans and his blue pancakes remain untouched. He won’t look at any of them. His fingers fiddle with Riptide in pen form, and he doesn’t respond to any of the voices around him. Usually, he’d at least interject with something stupid enough to make everyone roll their eyes, but today he just stares at his pen, lips pulled into a frown.

And then the record player they recently found skips, scratches, and sounds backwards, only for a moment.

Percy’s reaction is instant. He jumps up, chair falling behind him, stumbling over it. His eyes are clouded, unfocused, darting everywhere. Riptide tumbles out of his hand. Percy’s chest heaves, skin pale. Hazel hasn’t seen anything like this since they first saw Polybotes, when Percy’s memories were trying to tell him something, but unable to connect the dots.

Only this is worse.

A whimper passes through his lips and he shudders against the wall.

Jason is the first to step forward, hovering a foot away. “Percy? Hey, what’s wrong?”

But Percy can’t hear him. His gaze is on something none of them can see, foggy and dark dark dark. It’s a flashback. Hazel is much too familiar with them, though his seem to differ in the fact that he is conscious; he can move. If they’re not careful, all of them could end up hurt, though Percy seems frozen in terror.

Jason doesn’t get any closer, sensing the danger thick in the air. “We need Annabeth,” he mutters.

Hazel agrees, but Annabeth is asleep. Waking her, assuming her rest is peaceful and wouldn’t end in flying limbs, would make Percy feel even worse in the end. Piper would work too, but she’s scouting the area with Leo and Frank.

Sucking in a deep breath, Hazel steps forward. Her legs are shaking. She has to force her fingers to uncurl. “Percy, hey,” she keeps her voice calm, soft. “You’re safe here.”

There is no look of recognition on his face. The fear in his eyes seems to be melting into determination, sea green almost black but filling with fire. Hazel swallows hard. “You’re not there anymore. You’re on the ship. You’re with your friends.”

A twitch in Percy’s face. “No,” his voice is a ghost. He reaches blindly, grabbing Riptide, but not uncapping it. “Annabeth, you… you have to go. I’ll fight.”

A tear streaks down Hazel’s cheek, but she kneels beside Percy. “No, Percy, it’s Hazel. There is no fight.”

His eyes find her face, some of the clouds dispersed, some of the green back. But they still don’t focus on her gold ones. “No other way.” His voice is ice, cracking.

Hazel can see his hand move to uncap his pen and fear grasps at her heart, knocking the air from her lungs.

“Percy,” Jason says, “please. Come back.”

His hands twitch, but then the record player scratches again and he uncaps the sword, lurching forward. Hazel does the only thing she can think of: she cups his cheek with her hand. Percy flinches hard, as if he’s been burned.

“Jason, stop the player.” Her voice shakes. Riptide glows in front of her face, but Percy still seems unable to pinpoint the threat. It waves there.

The music cuts off. Jason sits next to them again, eyes flickering between Hazel and Percy. He doesn’t know what to do, and Hazel can tell how much it’s getting to him. But some things can’t be done logically, some things cannot be treated like a battle plan or a quest. Some things have to be controlled purely by emotions and the most irrational of actions.

Gasping, Percy slashes Riptide down. It sticks in the floor, narrowly missing Jason’s fingers.

“Percy,” she can’t level her voice anymore, can’t keep the fear and sadness out of it. “Percy, it’s me. You’re here. Can’t you feel the waves beneath you?”

His eyes still, the fog burning away, and he begins to rock in time with the ship. Leaning back into her touch, Percy’s breathing slows, his eyes find hers, finally seeing her.

“Annabeth?” he croaks.

“She’s sleeping,” Hazel relaxes, slumping her head onto his shoulder, pretending not to notice the wetness on his cheeks.

“She’s okay?”

“Yes.”

“And so are you,” Jason puts in, sounding as if all the weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

Shutting his eyes, Percy slams the back of his head into the wall and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Hazel says, strength coming back into her voice. “After everything you’ve done... been through...don’t ever apologize.”

It’s silent, save for Jason shuffling over, tossing Riptide away and tossing an arm over Percy’s shoulder. They stay like that for a long moment. The ocean laps at the side of the ship, Festus clicking once, nonthreatening.

“It was the record,” Percy finally says. Hazel peels her forehead from his shoulder, looks at his face. His eyes are trained on the ceiling. “It—gods, it was just like—” Percy licks his lips and Hazel watches his Adam’s apple bob. “Tartarus.”

Hazel remembers small details Percy and Annabeth gave before, about the veins and the heartbeat. The most terrifying thing, Hazel thinks, was when they mentioned the god Tartarus himself taking form and confronting them. They didn’t give many details beyond that.

“We’ll get rid of it,” Jason says.

“You don’t...need to do that for me.”

At this, Hazel actually rolls her eyes at him and scoffs. “Shut up.”

Percy shakes his head and stares at her, his disbelief drowning out the lingering fear. “Excuse me?”

“You’re so—” she waves her hands in the air, searching for words, “—so selfless. Too selfless. Let us sacrifice something for you, just this once, okay?”

He doesn’t say anything, but he reaches forward, grabs her hand and gives it a squeeze. His jaw clenches when he looks at Jason, but he nods.

Annabeth finds them there, two minutes later, and the sleep clears from her eyes in one blink, cradling Percy into her.

Hazel follows Jason out to the deck. She’s still shaking, still spilling silent tears. The gods speak of sacrifices, of things that must be given up, must be done, as if they understand. As if they are like Percy or Annabeth or even Nico, forever trapped in a hell pit of darkness. They talk about necessities and keeping the mortal world alive, as if they are the ones on the frontlines. They ask for offerings and thanks while they can’t even lift a finger to help.

Hazel’s beginning to wonder if the gods will ever give anything in return.

*

Jason is really glad to have Annabeth back.

Of course, he’s very happy that Percy is here too. Sea travel is much easier, and tension melts away more often than builds up due to his comments and smiles. Now that those are back full force, that is. But Jason digresses. He’s really, really glad Annabeth is back. She sits at the head of the table; she is often the true voice of reason. The plans she formulates are more often flawless than not.

But her plans are different than before.

There’s something a little more reckless in them. A little more all or nothing. When the gods are involved, her diplomacy has slipped into something closer to her boyfriend’s bitterness and sass. Jason thinks these are to hide the hesitance she feels towards her plans these days. She tiptoes around the doubt, burying them beneath risks, but Jason trips over them face first.

Times are desperate, though, and he isn’t sure anyone else has noticed. Except maybe Percy, whose face pulls into a frown and fingers tap her knee under the table, but even he says nothing. Piper casts glances at Annabeth often. Jason knows that Annabeth has confided in her more than anyone about what happened in Tartarus. Piper even whispers to him, one night when they’re gazing at the sky, _Annabeth tries to avoid her fear and that causes her to be lost in it._

After Piper and Annabeth go to the Temple of Fear, Annabeth’s plans shift again. This time, they make Jason smile. She looks at Piper and her plans go from logical and rigid to having emotion and unpredictable aspects to them. Athena’s daughter has gained even more wisdom, and it turns their crew into something unstoppable.

Unstoppable, maybe, to the enemies before them. But the night terrors have Annabeth screaming in the night again. Since the Temple, Percy is somehow even more protective of her. Almost to an overbearing amount.

But Annabeth clings to it, to him, even as the darkness creeps back in.

*

Percy told the crew he wasn’t ready to remember Tartarus, but Annabeth knows that’s a lie.

The truth is something much more daunting, much more real and suffocating. The truth is something Annabeth sees in the mirror, sees in Percy’s eyes, sees everytime she closes her own, asleep or not. The truth cloaks over them and threatens to consume them at every step. It almost causes them to fall apart. Their hands are clasped too tightly, their existences too intertwined. They can be apart, but it’s terrifying. Anytime they are not together, Annabeth feels a fear deeper than any other, which is saying _a lot._

“I love you,” they say to each other, over and over. It’s a fact, a promise, their only anchor to this world. After Percy disappeared, Annabeth thought she understood. Annabeth thought her feelings were at their peak, the most intense they could be, but Tartarus… Being isolated, watching him on the verge of a slow, agonizing death, and—

Annabeth shakes her head. She won’t go down this path again. The point is that without him, she would not have survived. He fell with her, willingly, and she almost lost him countless times because of it.

_Together,_ he always says. Not safe, not home, not okay, but _together._

At this point, after everything, if they lost each other, they would lose everything.

And that’s the problem.

It’s a problem with no solution. Everytime Annabeth tries to add a little bit of space between them, a normal bubble that most couples have, the flashbacks and night terrors and numbness creep back in.

“We’re too codependent,” she says one night.

“I know,” Percy agrees, which surprises her a little bit. “But how can we not be?”

Annabeth doesn’t have an answer. It frustrates her beyond belief, but she’s too tired to hold onto that feeling. This bone deep exhaustion started when Percy vanished and has only grown and grown and _grown._

Annabeth has always wanted something permanent. Apparently, the gods took it upon themselves to give her that, in the form of sleepless nights and real life horrors.

Next to her, Percy twitches in his sleep. A strangled _no_ passes through his lips and he tosses and turns and flails. Annabeth reaches out, whispers to him, but limbs are flying and nails are digging and cries are spilling. It’s a bad night. One that lasts as long as the fall to Tartarus and ends in bruises and blood and apologies. One that ends in a sadness that cannot be reached or found. One that displays all of their fears and insecurities and almost tears them apart.

A never ending battle, that’s what the gods have given both of them. Annabeth always wanted something permanent, she just never realized what the cost would be.

Percy said he wasn’t ready to remember but Annabeth knows that neither of them will ever be able to forget.

*

Frank has seen Percy fight many times before.

It's always impressive. His style isn't quite a mix of Greek and Roman, isn't quite anything either side teaches. Percy fights in his own way, combining his own moves and brash decisions with training in such a way that it's hard to predict him, hard to stop him. Storms can summon around him, water bends to his will, and his sheer strength is nothing to scoff at either. Frank has seen it, has _felt it._ Frank has admired it, always thought that Percy would be a better son of the war god than himself.

But now…. Now it takes all of Frank's willpower not to stare because, on the battlefield, Percy is no longer a demigod, Percy is no longer even a demon; Percy is a _god._

His movements are swifter, displaying absolutely no hesitation as he dances through enemies. The attacks are ruthless, no movement unnecessary. Water seems to find him now, rather than the other way around. His leaps take him further than they should, and flanking him does the enemy no good. He's fast, lethal, strong. He hardly looks like he's trying.

But he doesn't look like he's enjoying it.

Before, Percy fought with a finesse granted to those who take some sort of pleasure in it. Frank remembers Percy once saying _sword fighting has always been easy for me, fun when challenging._ But now, Percy's jaw is set, eyes blank, tearing through enemy ranks as if they're nothing.

At some point when Frank looks back over, he sees Annabeth caught off guard. He's about to head that way, but the monster freezes. He sees it stares somewhere past Annabeth and follows the line of sight. Percy is there. His eyes are _cruel,_ face pulled tight, and so terribly _angry._ It's like looking at a different person. Percy is fun and encouraging and all smiles. But the Percy standing there now, the one holding Riptide in a white knuckled grip, is nothing but rage. Frank isn't sure he's ever seen someone look so ready to tear the world apart before.

Annabeth turns to him, wild, screams something. As if slapped, Percy snaps out of it, wide eyed and slack jawed. He stumbles back, staring down at his hand.

Frank takes that moment to barrel into the monster as a lion, turning it to ash. When he looks back, Percy is giving Annabeth the most miserable expression Frank has ever seen him wear.

Frank has heard many stories of their time in Tartarus, of even their time in the last war. He knows Percy is powerful, he knows that Annabeth has been there through all his crazy adventures. He knows and has seen first hand what Percy has gained through all of that.

But now, Frank begins to wonder about what all Percy has _lost._

*

Piper is devastated.

The war is won, but it’s not quite over yet. Leo is gone, the camp is being rebuilt, the infirmary is full. She can’t sleep, and the faces of her friends tell her that she is not alone in this. Percy and Annabeth in particular throw themselves at every activity available, spending every waking hour doing _something._ The campers are all glad to have them back, clapping Percy on the back and he smiles at them, indulges them in conversation.

But Piper can tell his heart isn’t in it.

In a different world, one where Percy did not fall into Tartarus, one where Annabeth hasn’t told her stories of his anger and power, Piper thinks they could have been good friends. As it is, she cares for him, but doesn’t know how to approach him. So she turns away.

Jason spends hours researching, making notes about the new temples, and training. They spend a lot of nights on the roof. The stars bring them comfort, being wrapped together in the cool air. They talk until their voices go hoarse and Piper knows they are both looking for a gleaming dragon in that vast sky. It’s great, but a creeping doubt has started to work its way under her skin.

She tries to shake it off. This is her story, isn’t it?

Curse the fates.

These thoughts run circles in her mind and Piper doesn’t even realize she’s at the beach until cold water hits her leg. Jumping back, Piper brings herself back to the present. The sun is kissing the horizon, casting an orange glow over the calm waves. A breeze passes, and she breathes in the sea air. She misses the Argo II, even with the constant danger being aboard it had brought them. Maybe she just misses all her friends.

A startled cry has her turning so fast, her neck cracks. There, a few feet away, is Annabeth. Her curls are wild in the wind, but she stumbles back from the water, landing hard.

“Annabeth?” she calls, but her friend does not respond. Frowning, Piper walks over to her. “Annabeth.”

A whimper. Annabeth’s lower lips quivers, her eyes are grey storm clouds, swirling and dangerous and charged with electricity. Her face is pale, much like when she first got out of Tartarus.

Piper kneels next to her and scans the area. “Annabeth, what’s wrong?”

Annabeth just shakes her head frantically, incoherent words spilling from her lips like spitfire.

“Annabeth.” Piper reaches out, touches her shoulder. The bravest demigod Piper has ever met, the best friend she has ever had, is crumbling right before her eyes and Piper feels like her heart is being beaten. Annabeth looks at her, but doesn’t see her. Piper takes a shaky breath. She doesn’t know what triggered it this time, doesn’t know what horror is consuming all of her senses, but she knows what she has to do. Piper hopes Annabeth will forgive her later.

“Annabeth, you’re safe,” her voice is gentle, but she laces it with magic. “Come back, Annabeth. Wake up.”

It happens so fast that Annabeth gasps, falling into Piper. She’s shaking, tears waterfalling down her cheeks. Piper holds her. Piper cries, too. For Annabeth and Percy and Leo and Nico and Jason and Frank and Hazel and herself. She cries for everyone that has ever been lost.

Piper realizes that the war could very well never end.

*

When things calm down, they get worse again.

Things had been going good... Well, beyond the everyday demigod dangers and looming war. But Percy finds those too ordinary at this point to count them much. How sad is that? Percy remembers wishing he were normal, or at least by demigod standards. He remembers wishing that prophecies didn’t call his name, that wars didn’t beg for him to lead them.

Now, Percy wishes that those were his biggest problems.

The nightmares and flashbacks return; their relationship turns explosive. The only reprieve is distractions. So that’s what they do. They fill every waking, and what should be sleeping, moments with work. Sword lessons, repairs, showing new campers around, anything they can get their hands on.

It isn’t long before Chiron all but orders them, and Nico, to see an old friend of his. A child of Apollo. A psychologist. Percy is too tired to fight it, and even Annabeth just slumps in reluctant acceptance. Nico says no, but later, with Will beside him, comes back and asks for contact details.

They make appointments. Once a week together, and once a week alone. At first, it makes things even worse, to the point where Percy cannot look into grey eyes without seeing blood clouds and despair. But, after a month, he starts sleeping better. After a month, he can feel power tingling in his fingertips without locking it away.

After a month, he and Annabeth go on a real date again and end the night crying over lost time instead of horrors. It’s not everything, but it’s something. A start. A way to get back on their feet and enjoy the sunshine and stars without being torn apart by guilt. A way to look at each other and find that unconditional safety there, to feel love for each other to a degree that isn’t dangerous, that isn’t on the verge of collapsing from _too much fire._

Percy, for the first time in far too long, is finally breathing non-toxic air.

After two months, their relationship is more like before the fall.

“Are you sure you want me to come with?”

“Yeah,” he gives her a smile that is light, free, the one only she can draw out. The one that had been missing since July. “You’re family, too.”

Her grey eyes sparkle, glistening, and she kisses him slow and sweet. Words would do no good to describe how much that means to her, but it’s okay. He understands.

“Are you nervous?”

Percy grunts. “That she might break my ribs, yeah.”

“Yeah, well,” Annabeth shrugs, throwing him a teasing smile. “You probably deserve it.”

Percy laughs.

Things calm down and then they crash and burn, but then they rise from the ashes anew.

*

They surprise her.

Sally Jackson is making blue cookie dough when the apartment supervisor tells her she has visitors. She frowns, not due to see her editor until next week and expecting no one else, but tells him to allow them up.

There’s a knock on the door and she pauses. The pattern is one she recognizes, one that used to be a secret code back when her ex-husband was too involved in the wrong parts of their lives. Her heart skips a beat, and then goes into override. Her hand trembles as it grabs the doorknob, breath caught in her throat as she turns it and pulls and—

The tears are instant.

Sea green eyes greet her, a nervous half smile wavering on his lips. He’s even taller now, raven hair too long and messy and Sally launches herself at him, squeezing him tight. His arms wrap around her and he has to slouch a bit to put his head on her shoulder, but he does. He’s taller than her and his embrace engulfs her, but he trembles in her arms just like when he was young and her baby boy. He will always be her baby boy. No matter how many battles he fights.

After a minute, Sally pulls away, keeping him at arm's length. “Percy…”

He gives her that smile that usually lands him in trouble. “I’m home. And,” he reaches behind him, “I brought another gift.”

Annabeth stumbles into the doorway, chiding Percy for pulling her too roughly. Sally reaches forward, cupping her face, and the grey eyes settle on her, melting.

“Hey,” Annabeth breathes. “I said I’d bring him home—”

“And here you are.”

“Sally? Who—” And then Paul is crying too and staring at Percy as if the most important question in his entire life has finally been answered (which is crazy, since Sally agreed to marry him years ago).

They spend ten minutes in that doorway, exchanging hugs and kisses and tears and just taking in the physical presence of each other before Sally remembers that the oven is on and ushers them into the kitchen.

It isn’t until she distances herself, filling a baking sheet with blue blobs, that she notices. Paul is out grabbing cheeseburgers in celebration (her heart soared at the fact that he remembers Percy’s favorite food). Percy and Annabeth sit at the table, holding hands, foreheads pressed together and whispering. Annabeth’s back is to Sally, and that’s when Sally sees the tense set of her shoulders. Sally frowns. Those shoulders look more frail than before. She looks at Percy. Purple bags grip at his eyes, skin paler than his natural tan should allow, especially after a summer in Greece and Rome. The pair aren’t exactly thin, but their muscle seems to grip at almost nothing. There’s a tattoo on Percy’s arm.

“So,” Sally sits across from them, folding her fingers under her chin, “are you going to tell me what happened?”

Percy, forever wearing his heart on his sleeve, tenses and avoids her eyes. Annabeth worries at her camp necklace, at the coral pendant on it. The two look at each other, something passing between their eyes.

Sighing, Percy leans forward, looking at Sally’s cheek instead of her eyes. “Shouldn’t we wait for Paul?”

He’s stalling and Sally raises her brow to make sure he knows that she knows. His eyes turn pleading.

“Fine. But you will tell us _everything.”_

It’s silent for a beat. Percy finally looks her in the eye and she almost flinches away from how stern it is. There’s a darkness edging into the green. “Mom,” his voice cracks, “for once, I can’t do that.”

Sally blinks. This, from the son who told her when he wanted to bathe in the Styx, who told her when he was terrified after Annabeth was kidnapped, who told her about Luke’s ultimate sacrifice. A refusal from the son who has never been able to tell her no before.

“Excuse me?”

Annabeth purses her lips, lacing her fingers together on the table to stop picking at them. “What he means, Sally, is that there are just...some things no mortal should have to deal with.”

Something flares inside of Sally. A defense mechanism, one she uses when people doubt her or try to tell her what to do or fix her problems. One she has not felt in a long time. “He’s my son. And you—” Sally chokes on her own voice.

“Mom—”

“Perseus.”

He grimaces, but doesn’t back down. “I can’t, mom.”

The door opens and Paul steps in, bringing back a bit of Sally’s waning strength. “You can and you will.”

Hours later, Sally almost regrets it. Percy and Annabeth are holding hands so tightly, their fingers turn purple. The details get more sparse as the story goes on and once they reach Rome, all they really say is _Arachne, Tartarus, Bob._

If she’s being honest, Sally didn’t hear anything after that.

*

The boy they lost is not the same man who comes back.

It’s obvious in the tight smiles, in the twice weekly appointments, in the bruise Paul sports after trying to reach Percy mid-flashback and the sob filled apologies an hour later when Annabeth finally calmed him down.

Paul is confident he’ll never grasp the sheer severity of what his stepson has been through. How could he? How could Paul ever understand what it’s like to fight in two wars before turning seventeen? How could he ever even begin to imagine the horrors that Tartarus holds? He won’t. And he won’t ask. Percy is brave, but Paul is not. Even Sally cannot bring herself to ask for the full story of their trip through the pit.

Paul remembers when he first met Sally. How beautiful she looked, excited to finally step into the world she’d always wanted to be in, how kind and warm she was from the first word she uttered in his direction. Paul remembers how she had smiled when bringing up her son. He remembers how she seemed to provide partial truths about her son. He definitely remembers meeting Percy for the first time. Percy had been wary, giving him a piercing sea green look, a warning. His brooding face made him look like a troublemaker, and his smile spoke of even more danger. There was something intense about him that Paul could not understand, something in him that a teenager shouldn’t be able to radiate.

There was a while of Percy dodging questions, leaving randomly for hours and coming back so tired, he fell asleep instantly. And then, Paul remembers how he felt when they first told him the truth: shock, denial, amazement, denial, confusion, denial, _wow this is the coolest thing I've ever— ,_ denial, skeptic belief.

He remembers the pegasus hoof prints on his car and that flicker of true belief catching flame.

He remembers fighting monsters he couldn't even see while his step son stood there in awe, clothes tattered and looking exhausted and scarred beyond his years. Paul knows that that is when the truth finally settled into his bones with a mixture of wonder and despair.

And now, he stares right into the truth and he would give anything to make it a myth.

The boy who left was worn out from war, but hopeful for the future, and in the blissful beginning of a relationship. The boy who left smiled and made jokes at everything and said stupid things just to make everyone else feel better.

The man who came back is scarred beyond the help of even nectar and ambrosia, desperate for a future, and so terribly, completely in love that he would do anything, even fight Tartarus himself, to protect her. The man who came back frowns and makes bitter remarks and tiptoes around subjects to keep those around him happier.

But Paul still sees Percy. It’s in the way his sea green eyes twinkle when Annabeth is around. It’s in the way his true laugh is infectious, his true grin wide and full of trouble and love. It’s in the way he offers help around the house and watches Finding Nemo and eats blue food and drips with sarcasm.

Some days are really bad, but Paul knows it’s getting better. Percy studies harder, talks more freely to his mother and Paul, is able to go outside at night alone and not come running home with a shell shocked expression on his face.

It’s getting better, and tonight is one of the best yet.

Annabeth is over, the four of them at the kitchen table. Dinner has been loud and lively, Sally discussing her book, Paul talking about things at school that students don’t realize he knows. Annabeth discusses the new temples at camp and banters whenever Percy interjects with a comment.

Healing is a process, and Paul watches it, slowly, lending his ears and his hand and his home to it.

Something Paul misses is said, causing Percy to sit up and point at him and Sally, eyes alight. “Did I ever tell you how Annabeth judo flipped me?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes, but her face is burning red. Laughing, Paul exchanges looks with Sally. Her eyes are sparkling, lit up like the night sky. Beautiful as always, even more so now that her biggest worry has been lifted.

They’ll be okay. All of them.

Paul turns back to Percy. “Please, do tell.”

“Oh, man,” Percy leans back, placing his hands on the table in an over dramatic fashion, a wide-mouth grin targeted at Annabeth. “So she shows up at Camp Jupiter, right? And…”

The boy they lost is different from the man they get back, but Paul finds that he loves him even more for it.

**Author's Note:**

> is it too obvious that Percy is my favorite character?  
> lemme know what you think and feel free to find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/starsoakedskin)~ or [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bnessz)


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